


Lover of the Light

by Snowingiron



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Episode VII: The Force Awakens (2015)
Genre: Aftercare, Angst, F/M, Light Dom/sub, Mild Blood, Painplay, Possessive Behavior, Reylo - Freeform, Smut, porn without real plot...? I think?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-23
Updated: 2015-12-23
Packaged: 2018-05-08 17:22:38
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,865
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5506373
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Snowingiron/pseuds/Snowingiron
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>But at night in bed, when he was asleep, no one could enter his mind and judge him for what he fantasized about. The memory of her fragile body in his arms made him shiver with want. She had been so warm and light, he felt drawn to her like a moth, only to get burned by the fire within her heart. </i>
</p>
            </blockquote>





	Lover of the Light

**Author's Note:**

> (as always: english is not my first language, please excuse every typo or grammar error ;_;)

Kylo Ren screamed. He screamed and fought against the hands that tried to hold him down, to reason with him. Blood was dripping from his face, painting the walls and people with red sprinkles from the force of his harsh movements.

He screamed until all breath had left him, when they were finally able to pull his lightsaber from his tight grip.

"Bring her back to me!" He screamed one last time, pain written all over his face and the machines and medical droids around him almost exploded, sparks of the force lighting up the room for a brief moment.

Then he sunk back on the cot and closed his eyes. He tried to remember her face, the way she fought against him, with so much light inside of her, even the memory made his body shudder with something he hadn't felt before. Or hadn't cared for. He needed her and he felt it with every fiber of his being.

Even days later when he was already back in command, he still touched his face, where his grandfather's lightsaber had left a scar. They could've healed it properly but he didn't want that. He needed something to remind him of her, the path he had to go and a proof that she hadn't been a ghost. That his feelings were real. Feelings he weren't allowed to have, neither the Jedi's path nor the Sith's approved of it.

But at night in bed, when he was asleep, no one could enter his mind and judge him for what he fantasized about. The memory of her fragile body in his arms made him shiver with want. She had been so warm and light, he felt drawn to her like a moth, only to get burned by the fire within her heart.

_Bring her back to me. I need her, I need her, **I need her.**_

In his dream he would lie in his bed, with Rey crawling on top of him, sitting on his thighs and towering over him like a divine goddess. Her hands traced his scars, new ones that she had inflicted herself, and with her fingertips she touched the tender skin on his face.

"You're a monster," she whispered, repeating the words that had cut so deep. "You're a monster..."

But it didn't sound like it had back then. It was soft and full of understanding, like she only just discovered it and stared at him in wonder. He wanted to kill everyone who called him that but with her he just nodded, giving in to the ultimate truth. He had decided to be like that, he had chosen the dark side and he had chosen to favour her instead of the droid. He saw so much in her, so much strength and when he had first used the force on her, it felt like a spark inside of her had lit. It was him who had kindled her flame and a pleased hum escaped his throat.

He had wanted to be her teacher, to guide her, not only because of her potential but also because he craved her light. He was scared of the pull that he sensed at all times, but with her he wanted to give in, to cling to her, to beg for more.

In his dream they were naked and her hand slipped into the back of his neck and pulled him upwards, until she could press against him. Her hair was lose and falling over her shoulders, framing her beautiful face and he wanted to do nothing more than to bury his hands in it.

"You can," she offered and closed her eyes as he swept his fingers through it, marveling at the softness.

In turn she stroked his wiry locks and pressed her forehead against his.

"I can feel it... So much want and greed, one might burst. Is it me or is it you?"

Finally, he spoke, ragged, the words catching on something deep in his chest.

"It's me," he breathed against her lips, licking his own in a silent plea. His nerves were on fire already, and all she did was rubbing her breasts against his skin, keeping him close with her arms wrapped around his neck.

"Perhaps it is me, too..."

And his heart ached at her words, he wanted nothing more than for this feeling to be mutual, to be the one who wants and who was equally wanted. She was so beautiful and he had turned so very ugly, long before he had scarred him.

Her lips hovered over his and he could feel her hand tightening in his hair, pulling until he gave in and tilted his head back. She smiled and rose to her knees as she kissed him, still so close but practically hunched over him in a possessive grip. He moaned and let his hands drop to her back, touching the warm skin that was rough from life in a desert but still so very perfect. She was perfect as he was, but she was light and he was darkness, and he poured himself into the kiss, let her tongue into his mouth willingly.

She moved in his lap, sitting down again as she broke the kiss to catch her breath, then pulling him in for another and rubbing against his hardening cock. As a jedi you were trained to ignore those urges and as a Sith, no one would ever want you, and it was rare to want it yourself. It was the light side trying to seduce him in the most vile way. Torturing him with dreams of possibilities, of lies that someone still wanted him as he was now.

"How can I want you?" She asked with a voice that was trembling from arousal. She let her hips circle and slide against him, he could feel her wetness pooling on his lap.

But in this dream she could not only see his thoughts, he could see hers too, she was just a projection after all.

"Because you're so very alone," he answered with closed eyes, giving her another kiss that left him breathless. "And... with me you're whole."

"I'm not broken."

"No, you're perfect. I'm just here to make you human, to give you flaws." He couldn't stop his hands from roaming her body, her back, her hips, her legs, everything he could touch in that position. "The force is strong in you... and it resonates with me. When you were gone it drove me mad."

"You've hurt my friend..." She watched him now, a slight sheen of sweat covering her face.

"I have hurt you worse. I broke into your mind... If you can see past that, what else can you forgive?"

He still felt like he was tearing up from the inside but this was different. It wasn't just him.

"I cannot forgive you. I do not want to forgive you." She pressed her face against his, rubbing skin against skin while grinding into his lap once more. He hissed, ready to beg again because he was so hard it hurt. "Every crime deserves punishment. How many did you hurt?"

"So many," he whispered.

"But I believe you can be good." Her dark eyes watched his face and he stared back in wonder. He remembered those words, from master Luke, his mother... but they never meant it like she did. She actually believed it. But why? Because she knew... She saw everything inside his head.

He whined miserably and squeezed his eyes shut, trying to turn his head away but her grip on him was cast in iron, not only physically but also mentally.

"Look at me."

He could not refuse her. He opened his eyes again, staring at her as she moved her hips once more, shoving one hand between them to guide him inside of her. It was so easy, so smooth and he groaned along with her, knowing it was the first time for both of them. It was just a dream, but it was everything. It was important. It counted.

Then she started to move.

The drag was so good, so intense and he had to close his eyes again as she grinded into his lap over and over again, her pleased gasps giving him goosebumps. Her hands were in his hair again, but now they clasped them tigther, until he could feel the harsh pull at his scalp that made him groan.

"Please," he begged, but not because he wanted her to stop. "More."

Her hands started to wander over his neck to his shoulders, digging her nails into his pale skin until his head slumped forward into her chest. Perhaps she was right, perhaps he needed to be punisihed before anyone could forgive him. And she hurt him so well. Her Hands slid down his back as she rode him harder, moaning in a high pitched voice that echoed in his mind. Then she dragged her nails upwards again, taking reams of skin with them and he cried out, hips jerking.

It hurt, but it was the good kind pain, the one in which he was held through, not the one that was inflicted on him from afar, with words that cut as deep as a knife. Not the pain that festered inside of him and grew with the absence of his former master or his father. His father, who had been too much of a coward to face him, to hold him, to ask him to come home. No, he had sent master Luke instead. It didn't feel like that now. She hurt him but she was there, holding him, pleasuring him and whispering about how well he took it, even as she dug her fingers deeper into the scratches that burned from pain.

He could feel the pleasure build up inside of her, too. He could see it in her hooded eyes and the way she threw her head back whenever she let him enter her again. He tried to move against her, to give her back all she had given him, but she shook her head.

"Keep still, for now... I-" She swallowed. "You won't come until I say so. Can you do that? For me?"

"Yes," he gasped and felt like he was losing control over this dream, over himself, and something inside of him told him that he should fight it, that he shouldn't give himself to her so easily. But he wanted to. He wanted her to take control, to hurt him, to _want_ him, even if she hated him.

With her beautifully wrecked face she coaxed him back into a kiss, open mouthed and hungry. He felt so close, too close, and he gripped her hips tighter, begging her to let him come but she bit his lower lip until the skin broke and the taste of copper filled his mouth.

"No," She breathed. "Not yet." Then she started to suck on his lip, making the pain oh so sweeter until his eyes rolled back from lust.

He felt her squeeze around him when she came, her whole body trembled in his arms and she made little half-gasps and half-moans until she could breathe again. She was beautiful. So beautiful.

"Please," he begged again. "Please, can I?"

She was in his mind and he was in hers and she knew what he wanted. So when she nodded he couldn't stop himself, he grabbed her waist and rolled them over, until she was flat on her back, her cheeks still red from her climax. But she wrapped her legs around him, stroking his arms as he rested his hands next to her face.

He pushed into her with slow but rough thrusts, feeling her even more now, the wetness between them. He was the one fucking her now, but it was still her who was in control, who told him what to do, how to do it and he loved every minute of it. He didn't have to think about the real Rey and wonder if she would do the same, if she was like that at all, even though he had seen glimpses of her mind. Would she give in to him and the darkness or would she blind him with her bright light?

He slammed into her desperately, almost clumsily, driven by a need that clouded his senses and blurred everything around him until she was the only thing sharp and bright. His feet scraped against the sheets, trying to get deeper, closer, he was looking for something, _waiting_ for something only she could give.

And her eyes were so kind, even when she hurt him, covering his body in red lines like he was a canvas. But this time he couldn't beg, he only sobbed without crying, his arms giving in until he could press his face against her neck.

"Yes," She whispered and pressed the side of her face against his hair, digging the heels of her feet into the small of his back. "I need you... so much, and I don't understand why. But it is alright to want. Give yourself to me and I'll forgive you."

He whimpered against her skin.

"I forgive you," she said again but meant _come_ , and he moaned loudly, jerking his hips one last time before he spilled himself inside of her.

He panted against her neck, hair sticking to his own face while pleasure ran through his body and left him content and satisfied. But he knew the feeling wouldn't last. It literally was a climax, a moment, and then he fell into a hole of anxiety and fear, even a little bit of disgust for himself. The pain was still there and now it made him cry, as he slowly pulled out of her, face kept low so his tears left traces on her body. He pressed his face against her chest and expected the dream to end now but it didn't. Usually all good dreams ended on a bitter note that he would wake up with, that haunted him through the day. But what if this was a nightmare? What if this was his punishment and she hadn't forgiven him at all?

Then her slim but strong arms wrapped around him and a hand began to stroke his hair. She was so warm as she caressed his skin and soothed him with whispered words.

"Ssshh... I told you you could be good. And you _were_. You were everything."

Her words only made him sob harder, he didn't know how to handle it. Most people who had power were cruel and sadistic, they abused it and twisted it into destruction. The Jedi path made you cut off everything, all emotions, and forced you to humble yourself into nothing so you could serve the light side. But Rey wasn't like that. She had all that power but the bruises she left were beautiful, the pain she inflicted was a gift and her words were always kind. She helped him coming back from his dark thoughts.

 _You know I can take whatever I want_. That's what he had told her in that interrogation room. But now she had taken everything from him, shaped it into something closer to her, bathed it in lucent darkness, held it in her arms and gave it all back to him now.

When he finally stopped crying she slowly turned them around again, staying on top of him and smiling like she was happy to be here, right now, with him. His dream was kind to him today. She peppered his face with soft kisses, brushing the deep scar with her lips and kissing away the tears until his face was dry again. It was all wrong. She was the beautiful one but she touched him like _he_ was beautiful and fragile and worth of all that... affection.

When she was close to his lips again she stilled.

He could feel something blooming in her thoughts, a wish to protect him, to be close, something that reflected his own mind. It was a powerful thought, a dominant force in every ordinary person that could rip apart universes. A dangerous path for both of them and close to something they didn't dare to name. But right now he was so content and at peace, the tearing inside of him had stopped. He wanted nothing more than to kiss her, to tell her, but she already knew. Or maybe it was her thought and _he_ knew, their minds were entagled as their bodies and he surged up to close the distance between their mouths.

Then he woke up.

He was still panting, breathing into the darkness of his room, disappointment clawing at his chest. He had known it all along but the truth still was cold and harsh. He turned around and closed his eyes.

It was just a dream.

*

Somewhere, in another galaxy, Rey turned on her cot. She was covered in sweat, cheeks red and a wetness between her legs that almost soaked through her pants. She swallowed and rolled onto her stomach, burying her face into the scratchy pillow.

It was just a dream.

**Author's Note:**

> www.squishysoul.tumblr.com


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